Reunion
by Renaiya880727
Summary: My own version of the reunion scene between Yami and Yugi during episode 182. I didn't like their version very much. Sequel now up!


I always felt a bit gypped that Yami and Yuugi didn't have a bigger reunion scene in episode 182. I figure one must have happened, so I wrote it myself.

Huge thanks to my beta, Natalie AKA emeralddarkness. When I first wrote this as a draft, it only had about 2,000 words. Then I sent it to her to beta with specific orders to "have fun tearing it apart." That's one thing I appreciate about her: she's not afraid to tell me in very blunt and detailed terms exactly what's wrong with my writing. Of course, I do the same thing to her, so it all works out. About half of what you see before you was spawned by the editor's comments she made on my original draft. She recently joked that being betas for each other's fics is like the knights Criteous and Tamias zapping Dartz' beast: it starts out small, and it only gets bigger and bigger as it goes back and forth…

She has a good point, there.

She was writing her most recent fic, "Lighten my Darkness" (title was _my_ idea, thank you very much!) At the same time I was writing "Reunion" so you may notice some vague similarities if you read both. I highly recommend hers.

This scene begins just after Yami takes Yuugi's soul back into his body. I suppose you might consider it a bit AU…

Gratefully, I relinquish control.

I can't do it fast enough. I close my –_his_—eyes, and fade once again into the blackness that awaits me in my mind; the blackness that, in all it's millennia of existence, has only within the last few years gained a bright spot to pierce the dark. A place that is bright and beautiful; a calming, cheerful, childlike place. A place that does not belong to me…I have my own lonely prison to return to, after all. So different from his – Yuugi's room has never felt like a trap or a tomb.

I've been in possession of his body for a very long time. Far too long. Longer than I ever have been before. I have often wondered what it would be like, in idle moments. What it would feel like to have a mortal vessel all to myself. It was a selfish wish, and one I never expected to come true. It had seemed all but impossible, locked in the puzzle.

I had accepted that long before I ever met Yuugi. I had long ago consigned myself to an eternity trapped in the darkness, feeling myself fading, disappearing bit by bit as I lost more of myself with each passing year; dying beyond death. I did not even have the knowledge necessary to fully understand _what_ was happening to me. I had lost my memories, though whether I had given them up willingly or they had been torn from me I did not know. I knew of no existence outside the puzzle. I couldn't even be sure such a thing existed.

The first indication I had that things were changing was a sensation, borne not of myself or my prison, but from somewhere…else. Somewhere that was not the puzzle. It took me a long time to come to grips with the fact that there was indeed something besides the darkness I knew so well. It took even longer to realize that the feeling I sensed was excitement. I had nearly forgotten such an emotion existed—that any emotion existed. The inside of the puzzle had been calm, yet frightening; probably because there was nothing. Only the cold frightening darkness, and the unchanging emptiness.

It was not always there, that feeling of excitement, but whenever it was the walls of my prison invariably shifted. It seemed as thought they were slowly becoming more orderly. Instead of returning to a corridor I had previously walked to find things had changed, I could come back to certain places to find them the same, time and again. These places increased in number over a period of some years.

Later I would come to realize that it was during this time that Yuugi had been solving the puzzle. For nearly a decade it bested him, but he never gave up. And eventually, he would succeed.

I knew nothing of this at the time, though. All I knew was that for the first time in Ra knows how many years, I felt something in my own heart that was not despair or apathy.

Hope. I had begun to hope again. I had started to wonder, in my heart of hearts, if these changes would result in my freedom. Something was finally breaking the cycle of despair and loss I had found myself trapped in. For the first time in millennia, changes were breaking in.

And what changes. Feelings at first, coming from the boy I would come to know as Yuugi, feelings that sparked new sensations in my being. His excitement spawned my restlessness, for I wanted to know where these changes would lead. His frustration as the puzzle bested him at a turn fueled my own. I felt with him, sensed his feelings as clearly as my own, and urged him on silently, for I no longer thought with words.

His final despair, when nearly all of the corridors of the puzzle had stopped shifting around me, confused me. Why should he stop, with so little left to do?

It took me a long time to learn to trust Jounouchi, after I learned the reasons behind his near-failure.

And his joy, his elation, his—_ecstasy_—when the last piece fell into place was indescribable. I had been poised on the edge, waiting for that last piece, knowing it would signal my freedom.

And oh, such freedom…

I was so overwhelmed at the prospect of being free—of newness, of something else beyond the darkness, of these sensations that were rushing in around me like a flood of ice water (shocking and clear and cold and fresh—a slap in the face that took you from a land of nightmares and back into the sun) that in the seconds after the puzzle was completed I rushed out of my prison, accidentally overwhelming the mind of my savior. It was like being born again. Everything in his mind I now had access to. Greedily, I took in his knowledge of language and communication first. For the first time in eons, I could put my experiences and thoughts into words.

I moved on to his memories, barely touching the surface, as I did not want to intrude. I learned enough to know he was in trouble with bullies. The thought infuriated me—that my savior from the prison I had been locked in for so many millennia was being bullied by these idiots, these children, these pieces of scum… I decided in that moment to help him; to guard him—he had done me the greatest service possible, it was only fitting that I should repay him in what small way I could. I found that I had control of his body. It seemed his consciousness had taken up residence in a room that the puzzle had created just for him. I was uneasy for a moment as I wondered if this mind-switch was permanent but soon shrugged it off. This was his body; I was merely a borrower. I did not have his permission, the first few times that I defended him, but in later days when he was in trouble, when he felt his own strength to be inadequate, he would call on me for help and I would always respond. It was the least I could do—nothing, compared to the service that he had rendered me. He never considered it to be so, of course. It was ridiculous, but _he_ was grateful to _me_.

At last, the time came when we met face to face outside of a duel. He asked me my name, and the answer I gave him came automatically to my lips. I still don't know why I said that I was Pharaoh, as I had thought those memories lost. It seemed that he had not been the only one to benefit from our bond. As surely as I helped him with his problems, so he helped clear the darkness in my mind. I tried to probe my mind again, for the first time in a long time, and was frustrated when I could not seem to remember more about who, or what, I was.

I remember that I asked him to call me "Yami."

Yami: darkness. From such was I born, or so I believed. And in such I would still be trapped, had it not been for him. I sometimes wondered, wistfully, what it would be like if I was so fortunate as to gain a body of my own instead of having to borrow from my rescuer, and then only at his will. I admit, I sometimes wondered what it would be like for our roles to be reversed, for him to be the spirit, and for me to be the rightful owner of the body we shared.

I never _seriously_ wanted it to happen.

Especially not at _that_ price.

The price. My aibou. My hikari. Mou hitori no ore.

I'm at the door of my room before I realize it, opening it and entering the eternal corridor between our two doors. Time seems to be flowing in a strange way -- I'm running, stumbling forward in one moment and barely moving the next. I have to know, yet I'm afraid to find out.

Time slows again. Surely he'll be there. I had held him in my hands, I had taken him in, and I know he didn't leave.

He _has_ to be here.

He wasn't before. I couldn't accept it, when it first happened. I entered his chamber nightly, screaming for him, wandering the connecting corridor and the surrounding labyrinth for what seemed eons when I couldn't find him in his room, hoping against hope that I had been wrong. _I_ was the one who had lost the duel. If substitutes were even _allowed_, then surely Dartz's henchmen would have used them before? Wouldn't they have tried to protect their own miserable souls by sacrificing an innocent life when they lost?

He was never there.

I had screamed for him until my throat felt raw, I had searched every corner of his room—innocent, bright, playful; like a child's, a_n innocent child _-- over and over again. Small as the room was, I couldn't seem to stop myself from thinking that if I looked just one more time he would be there. I had searched many times, looking in corners where he couldn't possibly be, moving the toys—though only when the other possibilities were exhausted, always half afraid my poisonous touch would corrupt them as I was corrupted, would rob them of what had made Yuugi enclose them in the room that housed his soul and turn them as evil and dangerous as I was-- until I was crawling in circles on my hands and knees, beating the unrelenting walls that enclosed a space that _did not have Yuugi_ until, had I been able to feel pain or be injured, my fists would have been bruised and bloody, an endless refrain of _he's gone he's gone he's really truly gone_, echoing through my head like a dirge. It had seemed cruel, somehow, that I was not able to feel pain as a spirit—I deserved pain for what I had done, but I knew that any pain I felt would be at the expense of Yuugi's body. I had done enough damage, and I had to keep his body in good condition for when he returned to reclaim it for he _had to return_…And then the pain and the hopelessness would strike me again like a hammer blow and again I would scream, wishing that physicality could somehow reflect these emotions.

And now…

I had held the bright glowing ball of his soul, _his_ _soul, _in my hands. I knew it was him. Only my hikari could bring me such peace. Only my hikari would come to_ me_ upon his release.

This was where he belonged. This is _his_ body after all.

I stand before his soul room, gasping, but not really. I do not need to breathe here, but I realized long ago that it is hard for spirits to shake mortal habits.

His door is closed. When he was here before it was nearly always open. It is not in his nature to keep people out.

I suppose I wouldn't be here, if it was.

I try and stop the panic that floods through me. Why is his door shut? If he was here, if he really had returned, surely it would be open? Unless he didn't want to see me again—

And then, with no small amount of relief, I remember. _I'm_ the one who shut the door.

The last time I was here, after another of my hopeless searches that, nevertheless, I could not bring myself to abandon, I had closed the door behind me as I left. It had been a pathetic gesture, an attempt to keep the empty room –_ empty, empty _– from gaping at me, showing me at every turn what wasn't there. It felt wrong now, to have closed the door to Yuugi's room.

I put a hand on the door and fall to my knees, unable to bring myself to move either forward or back.

What if he _is_ here? What do I say to him?

I told Ironheart I would apologize, but now such a notion seems foolish. To apologize is not only saying I'm sorry but also that I am asking for forgiveness, implying that I feel I deserve it. What right do I have to ask for that?

I remember when we faced Kaiba on the tower of Pegasus' castle. He fought me then for control of his body and won. He didn't trust me for awhile afterwards, and I don't blame him.

Yuugi had never been raised to take games of life and death into consideration. Sure he played any game he was involved in with single minded intent to be victorious, but then he had never had to play games that involved such high stakes as the fate of another person's life—or soul.

To me, Kaiba had just been one more opponent like the ones I had faced long ago. Upon their declaration that failure would end in their deaths their opponent-- in this case me--was relieved of all responsibility concerning their ultimate fate at game's end.

My only job was to finish the game.

Whether or not my opponent lived or died was out of my hands. Yuugi had not seen it that way, he considered following through with a move that would result in another person's death nothing less than murder. He had rebelled against the winning move that would have – in his eyes – coated his hands with the blood of an innocent. I must confess that his viewpoint had puzzled me slightly; Kaiba was the only one responsible for his fate after he had declared it. Yuugi did not understand my thoughts any more than I did his and because of that the game – and by extension I – terrified him. He locked me away. I fought Yuugi for control again when we dueled against Mai. I pleaded with him to let me help, but he was afraid of what I would do to her if she lost. I had wanted to help him and I knew that he couldn't afford to lose the duel. Before he allowed me to help him win, I vowed that I would never again go against his wishes.

I can't help but wonder now if I really meant it. Had I only promised so he would let me help him?

After all, hadn't I rebelled again, just as before, when we dueled against Raphael? We both knew that the Seal of Orichalcos was evil. I knew it perhaps better than he did. The only experiences he had ever had with evil powers were limited to his experiences with the darker abilities of the Millennium Items. I, who had reigned in Egypt while the Shadow Games raged, understood better than he did the true capabilities and consequences of magics such as that of the Seal.

And yet, perhaps the very fact that I understood better than Yuugi the power of such things had been the problem.

I knew their power better than Yuugi ever could. I had known that they possessed power that could –or so I thought—win this duel, if you only had the strength, skill and daring necessary to use it.

Losing is not in my nature. In games of life and death, there is no room for mistakes and such games were, perhaps, what I understood best.

I had made my choice. I used the power. And Yuugi paid the price.

The price for _my_ power driven actions which _he _should never have had to pay. Of course, it was not in his nature to do less...

Oh, Aibou. If only you knew how much I admire you, how much I envy your innocence. If ever I was like you, I lost it long ago.

And you paid the price.

I am on my knees before his door. I can't bring myself to reach for the handle. I am disgusted at the fear that is screaming inside me – that he won't be there, or worse, that he _will_ be there and will want nothing to do with me, even though I know I deserve just that – but I still can't make myself move.

And suddenly the choice is removed from my hands altogether. The door opens.

From the _inside_.

I lose my balance and I fall forward. I brace for an impact with the floor, but it never comes. Someone catches my fall.

I find myself pressed against his ribcage. I suppose I should be feeling relief. He's here, after all. _He's here,_ and he's warm and breathing and standing right in front of me and my face is pressed against his chest and I feel his hands resting on my head to steady me—and instead of relief I find myself wanting to laugh. I'm on my knees, for Ra's sake, and my face still meets the space right over his heart. His living, beating heart. He always was short.

And then the memories, which had been dispelled for a moment by the shock of falling and then being caught and _Yuugi_ being the one who caught me and the relief of the fact that he was _there_, he was _there_, he had come back--and I almost flinch, expecting him to push me away. I can hardly imagine him doing anything else – he has a forgiving nature, but when I consider what I did to him…

He has every right to be angry. He has every right to yell at me, to blame me for everything that's happened to him. How could I have done this, after all? He solved the puzzle, freed my from its dark and lonely confines, gave me access to his mind, control of his body, complete trust in _me_, a bodiless spirit who is everything that he should distrust.

And how do I repay him?

I expect him to yell at me. Surely even _he_ can only take so much?

I want him to yell at me. It's no more than I deserve.

He doesn't yell at me. Oh, how I wish he had…

"Mou hitori no boku?" he asks.

My eyes fly open at his voice. I must have misheard. I expected his tone to be cold; I thought for sure he would at least sound angry.

He doesn't.

He sounds…hopeful. As if he can't believe I'm there.

The next thing I know, he too is on his knees, hugging me so tight it would have been painful, if either of us had bodies that could feel pain, instead of this spirit-stuff that we are made of when in this place.

"You're here. You're really here!" he says happily, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

This can't be real.

How can he be so happy to see me? Doesn't he remember what I've done? Doesn't he hate me? He has to hate me. I hate myself for what I did to him. And yet, selfish miserable being that I am, I find myself hoping it's real.

What I want more than anything is his forgiveness. Such is the nature of people: they want things they do not deserve. There is no doubt in my mind that I do not deserve his forgiveness. He is well within his rights to banish me from his mind, shatter the puzzle and scatter the pieces to the corners of the earth. I would not blame him if he did—at times I wished to do it to myself. I deserve nothing more than to be trapped as I was before. I am not sure if I even deserve _that_ much consideration.

I do not deserve his forgiveness. And yet I want it so very badly…

"Mou hitori no boku…" He's still holding me tightly. His voice, somehow, has the tone of a happy sigh – a small sound of relief that a child makes when things are right again, back where they should be.

"Aibou," I whisper, weakly.

He raises his head to look at me. He must see the defeat on my face.

He smiles.

I can't believe this.

He always seems to know when people are suffering, me more than anyone since we are so closely linked. He must sense my feelings. How much I want to apologize, how sure I am that mere words could never adequately express the depths of my regret. How I feel that I am unworthy of his forgiveness, and that I would not blame him for whatever he might do to me.

I would not blame him.

He takes my face in his hands. I close my eyes, expecting him to tell me goodbye, and good riddance. Instead, I feel his forehead press against my own. His hands slide down the sides of my neck, to my shoulders.

"I've missed you, mou hitori no boku," he whispers.

Impossible.

How could he…he couldn't possibly…this can't be real…

The thoughts won't form.

He helps me up; I'm boneless in more ways than one.

He leads me, unresisting, into his soul-room. His room is so much brighter and more welcoming than mine could ever be. His is cheerful and inviting – mine seems designed to keep out and confuse. Even I am afraid of my own room sometimes.

He leads me to the center of the floor, where there is a large cushion of sorts. I think he called it a bean-bag chair.

Once there, he pushes me down into it and kneels before me, before leaning in for another embrace. This time, I can bring myself to respond.

He's back. My hikari. My precious aibou.

I shudder as I think how closely I came to losing him for good. It would have been my fault too. Why doesn't he blame me?

This would be so much easier if he would blame me.

He notices me shaking. He must sense my fear, if not the reasons behind it.

"It's okay," he whispers from his place on my chest. "I was afraid, too."

I want to slap myself for being so stupid. All this time, I've been commiserating with myself on what a miserable experience _I've_ had. But how much worse must it have been for him? He was innocent. Who knows what his imprisonment was like?

I can't bring myself to ask.

_Coward._

He gently shifts in my weak embrace, and I catch the hint immediately. I loosen my grip as he moves out of the circle of my arms. I miss the warmth and comfort he brings immediately, but make no move. I have no right to stop him, should he wish to be away from me. But at the same time, I know he's not leaving because he wants to leave _me_, per se, but that he has other things to do. I know in my heart that he has already forgiven me, and the knowledge makes me want to scream in absolute misery for being selfish enough to accept it, even after all I've done, knowing I deserve his hatred--and at the same time it makes me want to shout from absolute joy and inexpressible gratitude that fate has paired me with perhaps the one person who can be kind, generous, and yes—loving enough to forgive me for my stupidity.

He's forgiven me. I know he has. He has seen me at my lowest moments, and fallen victim to the results of my greatest mistake – taken my place, saved me. He has seen my soul stripped bare, and found it in him to accept everything I am, both good and bad. Yet again, I don't understand. I'll never understand why he is the way he is. I don't really want to, either. Some things are better left unknown. Something tells me this is one of those things that, if you _can_ understand it, then it doesn't need to be explained to you in the first place.

What a glorious paradox.

He smiles at me again, and the twin emotions rage within me. Relief – the smiling calm. Inadequacy – I don't deserve it.

I wish he'd stop. I don't deserve his forgiveness.

Still, I want forgiveness, I _want_ to learn to accept it; I don't _want_ him to stop.

_Coward._

"Why don't I take over for awhile?" he asks, patting my cheek gently, speaking as calmly and—amazingly enough—_sympathetically_ as if I'm the one who has suffered the most. In a sudden surge of terror, I desperately hope I am. If he's gone through _worse_…!

I can't help but shudder, closing my eyes tightly. I don't want to think about what I put him through, yet I know I must face up to it sooner or later. I may have his forgiveness, but the consequences of my actions are far from being played out. I know in my heart they will never completely end. As trusting as he is, I feel that he will always carry some doubt with him as to whether or not he can trust me from now on. He may never show it, he may not often act on it, but it will be there, as it should be. I don't even know if I can trust myself, anymore…

It takes me another moment before I realize what his words mean. Time may slow down for us when we are here, but it does not stop altogether. I left his body standing in an ancient castle, on the verge of an inter-dimensional war.

Not, perhaps, the most responsible thing to have done with his body.

Besides, his friends have been without him for far too long. How many people have I hurt with my actions, anyway?

I don't want to think about it.

_Coward._

I grasp his hand as he stands to leave. The next time he calls on me may be quite soon, and knowing him, he won't even mention this again. Coward that I am, I'll follow his lead. I'll try and be supporting, like I was before this whole mess.

Who knows when I'll have this chance again?

"Yuugi, I…" I can't say it.

_COWARD!_

He grasps my hand briefly, but says nothing.

He doesn't have to.

I close my eyes and lean forward, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. It's the closest I can come to an apology.

I hang my head at the hopelessness of the gesture.

_Pathetic._

He raises his other hand to my face, cupping my cheek, stroking the skin under my eye with his thumb. I lean into his touch. I have no right to seek his comfort, yet I can't help myself.

I don't want him to leave.

I know I have no right to ask him to stay with me. Why should he, after all? If I can't even bring myself to say what I _should_ be saying, then I have no reason to detain him. Especially considering what's going on outside. Considering the fact that if one of us _doesn't _leave, his body will be nothing but an empty shell.

He slides his hand from my nerveless grip, and walks to the door. He's probably anxious to get back in control of his body, after having been out of it for so long.

He pauses, one foot in the corridor, and turns to face me.

"Don't worry. I'm alright." He smiles a little, and then continues on his way. He doesn't wait to see my reaction, for which I'm grateful.

Words can't express the relief he's just given me. He's all right. Despite what I did to him, he's all right. _All right, he's all right, he's safe…_The memories and despair, the hopelessness, the self loathing are still stirring in my mind, like blood beneath an old wound, one that never healed. One that never _could_ heal, I'd thought previously, but now I wonder…Yuugi has such a generous nature – I did not deserve such. Still, he'd already begun drawing the poison from my soul.

I know pride has no place in this moment, and yet I can't bear to let anyone see me cry. Not even my other self.

As the door closes behind him, as his footsteps fade, as I sense him taking control of the body that is rightfully his, anxious to see his friends again, I lean back in the cushion, allowing myself to almost curl up now that I was alone, closing my eyes and letting myself take in the comfort this room brings, a peace which has only been heightened by the return of its creator.

Eventually, I find the strength to cry.

Gratefully, I relinquish control.


End file.
